


ʎddɐɥ, happy

by clickclickclickclick



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brainwashing, DiSTorTed TeXt, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Harley Keener & Peter Parker are Siblings, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mpreg, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Past Rape/Non-con, Psychological Trauma, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Lives, Torture, Unreliable Narrator, Winter Solider programming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24562387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clickclickclickclick/pseuds/clickclickclickclick
Summary: Why wouldn't he beʎddɐɥhappy? He has everything he ever needs. A good spouse, a family of their own and comfortable home. His husband is a hero, he protects the world from the Elementals.ButƂuᴉɥʇǝɯossomething feels wrong. Peter isn't sure what could be wrong. He should be happy.But why isn't he?
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	ʎddɐɥ, happy

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a dumb bitch with a niche. No one can stop me. Once again, canon is more optional than anything else. Harley and Peter are brothers here, etc. So Aunt May had her hands very full. Tony is also alive. 
> 
> also there will be a lot of flipped text, apologies to people who get a little lost at that.

Peter knew something was wɹonƃ. He felt it, but couldn’t understand what it was. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Everything was ǝuᴉɟ. There was ƃuᴉɥʇoN ƃuoɹʍ. 

Maybe it was the new compound they had moved into within the last two months? Maybe that was what felt strange. Peter couldn’t quite figure it out. Not that he had time to. He was busy. He was always busy, busy, bnsʎ. 

¿ƃuoɹʍ sɐʍ ƃuᴉɥʇǝɯos ǝʞᴉl lǝǝɟ ʇᴉ pᴉp ʎɥʍ

He was uɐɯɹǝpᴉdS after all. He was a stay at home dad after all. He was whatever Quentin needed him to be. He loves Quentin, he lsǝʌo Quentin Beck. How could he not? They were meant to be. ɹǝɥʇǝƃoʇ ǝq oʇ ʇuɐǝɯ. 

He thinks of Quentin and he’s truly hɐpdʎ. 

¿ǝɯ ƃuᴉʇɹnɥ dǝǝʞ noʎ op ʎɥM

It was that simple. 

˙ǝldɯᴉs ʇɐɥʇ sɐʍ ʇI

He tilted his head with a smile, watching as his daughter and son shared their toys in the playpen, just this once both were quiet and content. There were no tantrums or arguments over who got which toy, at least not for now. The world felt simpler with them. He could feel more with them. ˙noʎ ǝʌol I 'noʎ ǝʌol I 'noʎ ǝʌol I

It was nice. He drifted by, coaxing his fingers teasingly through Mayday’s hair fondly, the two year old grabs at his hand, “Daddy, daddy!” 

“Daddy’s here, baby girl.” He hums lowly to her. “Daddy’s always here.” 

She chatters about something….

Ƃuᴉɥʇǝɯos  
Ƃuᴉɥʇǝɯos  
Ƃuᴉɥʇǝɯos  
Ƃuᴉɥʇǝɯos  
Ƃuᴉɥʇǝɯos  
Ƃuᴉɥʇǝɯos  
Ƃuᴉɥʇǝɯos  
ƃuᴉɥʇǝɯos

He just strokes his fingers through her hair, smiling down at her. Her chatter makes Aaron start to chatter as well. The two are telling him about their toys, about the game they’re playing. 

The two are only a few months apart, so they could practically be ┴ᴉwns. Sometimes he likes to pretend they are. Twins always ʞɔᴉʇs together. 

Twins are impoɐʇɹnt. Twins are friends for lᴉfǝ. 

¿ ʎǝ l ɹ ɐ H

¿ʎǝlɹɐH sᴉ oɥʍ

¿ʎǝlɹɐH sᴉ ǝɹǝɥM

He only withdraws his hand once he hears a door slam. Voices call out in greeting, Peter can pick out Quentin’s amongst the usual noises. He would know that voice anywhere. He loves that voice. How can he not love that voice? 

ɯᴉɥ sʇɹnɥ ʇɐɥʇ ǝɔᴉoʌ ǝɥʇ 

ǝɯ ƃuᴉʇɹnɥ ǝɹ,no⅄  
ǝsɐǝlԀ  
ǝsɐǝlԀ  
ǝsɐǝlԀ

“Your pop must be home.” His smile dims and he doesn’t even notice it, all he does is ruffle his children’s hair and move from the children’s bedroom into the main open area of the compound. People are walking through the compound, names flutter through his mind but all he has eyes for is his Husband. puɐqsnH. 

The man looks happy, green eyes bright with amusement as he spreads his arms wide once he sees Peter. 

“Honey, I’m home!” His lips quirk into something edging to a smirk, laughing at his own joke. Peter cannot manage a laugh, but he smiles. ˙ɯᴉɥ ʇɐ ǝlᴉɯs ʇ,uop

“Welcome back.” His smile hurts on his face, but he has to wear it. It’s what he has to do. He walks into the embrace waiting for him. Quǝnʇin’s arms fit around him peɟɹectly. He was mɐde to fit in these arms. 

He tucks his head under the taller man’s chin. He can feel the man’s cool fingertips move across his back. His own hold is loose, practiced but knowing where he should hold onto Quentin. uᴉʇuǝnQ. 

“I missed you, dollface.” He tips Peter’s face upwards to meet his gaze. He brushes his thumb across Peter’s lips, across his jaw. ǝɯ ƃuᴉɥɔnoʇ doʇS

His smile feels so bɹiʇʇle on his face, like it’ll shatter and crumble onto the floor underfoot. 

Yet. 

ʇǝ⅄.

Yet.

He retains it, he holds that smile and Quentin believes. The man kisses him, and all Peter can do is hold him, returning it once he realizes he has to. Quentin holds his cheek and he knows he bǝloƃs. 

-ƃuolǝq ʇ,usǝop ǝɥ 'ƃuolǝq ʇ,usǝop ǝɥ 'ƃuolǝq ʇ,usǝop ǝH

He steps back slightly when Quentin breaks the kiss. Quentin brushes his fingers through Peter’s hair. He narrows his eyes as he snags a lock of curly hair between his fingers. He tugs at it idly as Peter smᴉlǝs at him. “Looking a little shaggy, doll face. You need a haircut.” 

“If you think so, then we should get it done soon.” He answers, if Quentin thought it was a good idea. It must be.

Quentin always had good ideas. Every idea he had was a good one.

˙sɐǝpᴉ ǝlqᴉɹɹǝʇ sɐɥ sʎɐʍlɐ uᴉʇuǝnQ

“I hate to interrupt you love birds, but, Quentin we need you to look over this data.” Guterman cuts in, the man having walked over. Peter hadn’t even noᴉʇced. He lets his arms fall to his side as he steps away. Quentin sighed as he turned to the other man, rolling his eyes as he reaches out to pat Peter on the top of the head. “I’ve got business to take care of doll face, why don’t you go relax with the kids?” 

“Okay.” He agrees cheerily, watching as Quentin walks off with Guterman. The two disappear into the main office.

¿ʎɐʞO

\---

He rocks back and forth quietly, unaware he's even moving. His gaze is locked on the single window in the children's room. He can see the city in the distance. 

ǝʌɐǝ˥  
ǝʌɐǝ˥  
ǝʌɐǝ˥  
ǝʌɐǝ˥  
ǝʌɐǝ˥  
ǝʌɐǝ˥

˙oƃ puɐ sǝᴉqɐq ǝɥʇ dn ʞɔᴉԀ

"Daddy? Are you okay?" 

Peter head snaps up as his gaze settles on the two year old staring at him from the children's playpen. Peter realizes as he stares at the two, they are growing out of it. Soon he needs to fix that. He has to talk to Quentin about buying more things for the kids. This base should last them so much longer. 

"I'm fine, baby May." He promises. 

He had to be ǝuᴉℲ. 

He has to be, for ┴hem. For Mayday and Aaron. He loves them dearly. He'll do _anything_ for them. 

˙ʎldǝǝp uᴉʇuǝnQ sǝʇɐɥ ǝH ˙ʎlnɹʇ 'ɯǝɥʇ sǝʌol ǝH

"Dadddyyy." Aaron whines from nearby, reaching out for him. Peter manages a smile, something that feels more real for the children as he makes his way over to the playpen to sweep the two up in his arms. Mayday brightens at the contact, throwing her arms around his neck with a smile. Aaron isn't as enthused, but leans into Peter regardless. 

"I got you." He promises against the two, "I got you. Daddy has you." 

˙noʎ ʇɹnɥ ɯᴉɥ ʇǝl ʇ,uoʍ I

Aaron whines still, grabbing a fistful of Peter's shirt. The little boy squirms in Peter's grip before settling down with somewhat of a sulk. "Wanna see Pop!"

¡noʎ ʇɹnɥ oʇ ƃuᴉoƃ s,ǝH  
˙noʎ ʇɹnɥ ɯᴉɥ ʇǝl ʇ,uoʍ I  
˙noʎ ǝǝs ɯᴉɥ ʇǝl ʇ,uoʍ I

His smile feels like it might crack in two. He doesn't want to see Quentin. "Sure, as soon as he's done with work." 

"Daddy, he's always busy." Aaron seems intent on whining. Peter offers a gentle hush, peppering the boy's head with kisses as he carries both children with him over to the beds against the wall. He carefully lays back on the child sized bed, tucking the two against his chest.

\---

“All suited up, doll face?” He questions, tilting his head in Peter’s direction as the seventeen year old pulls his mask on. “Yes.” His voice comes out muffled from under the fabric but he stands straight under the other man’s gaze. “I’m ready when you are.” 

He was uɐɯɹǝpᴉdS. He wasn’t ɹǝʇǝԀ. 

“Good.” Quentin snaps his fingers, and uɐɯɹǝpᴉdS followed behind him. He had to follow, he nǝǝded to. There was no other choᴉcǝ. 

It is easy to obey, to follow the instructions given to me during the ‘attacks’. He has simple things to do, he has to react, he has to throw punches that hit nothing, he has to swing around and yell on cue. uɐɯɹǝpᴉdS does what he is told. uɐɯɹǝpᴉdS and Mysterio disappear after each battle, after each Elemental attack is thwarted once again.

Obǝdᴉencǝ is eɐsy. Obedience is all he nǝǝds. 

It was that simple. 

˙ǝldɯᴉs ʇɐɥʇ sɐʍ ʇI

Quentin is so happy with him afterwards, it makes things so much bǝʇʇer. 

\--

_The footage jitters for a moment, before becoming stable. The main focus in the middle of the frame is a sixteen year old boy tied to a metal chair. In the corner one can almost make out the end of a cot or mattress of some kind. The room itself behind him is bare, made of concrete and otherwise unremarkable._

_He stares back at the direction of the camera almost listlessly. The teenager looks exhausted, barely holding himself up in the chair. Bits of his hair are plastered to his forehead from sweat. Dark circles are settled under his eyes. His bottom lip is chewed raw and he keeps chewing it whilst waiting for something. What the camera can make out, the teenager is clad in an old loose t-shirt covered in strange faded stains._

_He sits up, or attempts to when another man walks into frame behind him. The camera angle cuts the man off at the shoulders, but his hands settle against the boy’s shoulders. “It’ll be quick this time, Peter. Don’t worry. If you answer right after we can do something nice.” The man pulls away, but remains behind the chair._

_The teenager nods numbly, but his gaze drops to the floor for a moment. There is a pause as the man gives a command, “Now.”_

_And just like that, his eyes widen and his gaze snaps upwards over his head. He tilts his head backwards as if tracking something. He swallows heavily, biting down on his bottom lip as his brows pinch together._

_His eyes dart back and forth, terror blossoms across the teenager’s face as he shivers against the chair. His eyes stay focused on whatever he’s seeing. The only sounds in the room is the man’s breathing and the panicky fearful sounds the teenager is making.He startles back somewhat, before his gaze darts around again. Once it settles, all the color in his face seems to just drop away._

_The footage cuts as the teenager all but screams himself hoarse._


End file.
